We'll Make It Out Of This Mess
by smc-27
Summary: Rachel's dads really, really don't like Puck. Oneshot.


**A/N:** Warning: This gets a little almost borderline M-ish at parts (nothing too crazy, though.) And I know the ending is cheesy, but who doesn't love a little cheese??

The title comes from Taylor Swift, because this story is kind of Love Story-esque.

**----**

The only thing worse than meeting your girl's dad for the first time is meeting your girl's dads (plural) for the first time.

The only thing worse than meeting your girl's dads (plural) for the first time is meeting your girl's dads (plural) for the first time when you're laying on your back on her bed. And she's on top of you. And your hands are on her ass. Underneath her skirt. (Not that there's much of a skirt for his hands to _be_ underneath, but he doesn't _say_ that, because he, you know, values his life.)

So there he is, with Rachel straddling him (and if she moves, the situation below his belt is gonna make shit really fucking awkward; or, more awkward) and her dads (plural) standing in the doorway of her bedroom. The big one has his arms crossed, and the little one has this look on his face like Puck has just kicked the guy's dog.

(Rachel is _so_ not a dog, and there was no kicking involved. These are the things he's thinking right now, when all he should be doing is apologizing profusely and _getting the fuck out of there._)

"Daddy! Dad! Noah and I were just...practicing!" she says hurriedly.

Puck has the good sense to remove his hands from her ass.

"Practicing _what_, exactly?" the big one says.

"A _song_, daddy," Rachel says. Puck thinks she's just about the most naive person in the world. He fucking _digs_ that about her, too. And not just because he wants to corrupt her. (Only a little bit, he swears.)

"I do believe it's difficult to sing when your lips are fused to _his_," the big one says. He's got attitude. The same kind of attitude Mercedes has. Rachel gets mad at Puck when he calls it 'Blackitude.'

Probably a good idea to keep his mouth shut about _that_ right now.

"Rachel, sweetie, I can't...I just...when you invited this...boy over, you said it was..." (Apparently 'Dad' stutters when he catches his daughter making out. Puck makes a note of that shit.)

Rachel gets up (carefully, and Puck doesn't even _try_ to look up her skirt as she does it).

(Okay, he's just finally 'calming down' and he does not need anything to change that fact.)

"I told you that we're seeing each other. You must know there's kissing involved in that kind of thing. And the door was open!" Her voice is a little frantic, because she's all flustered (Puck wants to smirk, but he doesn't). He swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands next to her. "Nothing more was going to happen. He didn't even get to second base!"

"Which one is that again?" Dad asks, glancing up at Daddy.

"Brian, _please_. Focus on the issue at hand. Our 16 year old was just..."

"With all due respect, Mr. Berry..." Puck tries.

"All due respect would have been you keeping your hands off my daughter while under my roof, and not interrupting me when I'm speaking," Daddy says seriously.

Puck does not get scared. _Ever_. Like, of anything. Except sharks. And getting hit in the 'nads. But that's common among all dudes, he's sure.

This man who's got a good four inches on him and has his arms crossed on his chest is scaring the fuck out of him right now.

(He _knew_ he never should have believed her when she said her dads were gone out to Sheets 'N Things and wouldn't be back for a couple hours. Seriously, who the hell spends _two hours _at Sheets 'N Things?!)

"I think you're overreacting, Daddy," Rachel says seriously, crossing her own arms. Puck can sense that 'Dad' is getting uncomfortable, but it's like the guy's been in this same situation a hundred times before, standing on the sidelines while his daughter and...husband(?) argue. At least now Puck knows where Rachel gets her annoying stubbornness from. "You've never had a problem with me having boys over before."

Puck almost gives himself whiplash, he looks at her so fast. _Who the fuck else_ has she ever had over?

"We had no reason to have a problem. _This one_, I've heard stories about," Daddy says. He narrows his eyes at Puck.

He needs to _get the fuck out of this place_.

"Look, I uh...I'm sorry. I didn't...We were just practicing and...I wouldn't...I respect Rachel," Puck manages. He knows he sounds like a fucking tool. But he's not lying, either. "Things got a little...carried away, but it wouldn't have gone any further." Neither father says anything. "I'm gonna...go."

"That's the best idea you've had since I met you," Daddy says.

Rachel gasps. (Drama queen.) "You're being so unfair right now! And rude!"

"Bunny, it's time for a talk," Dad says, trying to placate his daughter.

Puck grabs his guitar and stuffs it in its case, then grabs his keys from Rachel's dresser where he'd dropped them. (What? No girl wants keys diggin' into her thigh when she straddles him. And he knows that Rachel likes to be on top.)

(Totally hot, FYI.)

"I've had the sex talk, remember? You brought in Aunt Judy to help you," Rachel explains.

Puck touches her elbow. 'Daddy' looks like he's going to cut off Puck's hand, so he takes it off her pretty much immediately. "I'm just gonna go. It's cool. I'll just see you tomorrow."

"Can I at least walk Noah to the door?" she asks, practically pouting.

"No," her dads say at the same time.

Solidarity's a _bitch_. Puck thought for sure the quiet little one (Brian. Mr. Berry. What the fuck is he supposed to call these dudes?) was at least a little less pissed. Apparently, however, the shock has worn off and the pissed offed-ness has settled in.

It is time for Puck to _go_.

Rachel kisses his cheek. As much as he likes it, he wishes she hadn't. He's getting absolutely glared at right now.

He doesn't say anything as he leaves the room.

_'It was nice to meet you,' _would be a big, fat, fucking lie.

(Because he _totally_ would have gotten to second base if they hadn't shown up.)

----

She's pouting when he sees her. She's sitting at her desk in their Spanish class, and he knows she puts the pout on just because they have this class together. When he sits down next to her, she purses her lips and looks over at him.

"How'd the sex talk go?" he asks, just barely able to hide his smile. But his question makes her grin, just a little tiny bit.

"They don't even know about hetero sex! It was _terrible_," she hisses at him, trying to keep their conversation as quiet as possible. Puck is trying really hard not to think about how hot it is for Rachel to even say the word _sex_. Then he tries even harder not to think about_ 'hetero sex' _with Rachel. "Daddy only ever dated one girl, and they just kissed, since they were only 14. And Dad has known he was gay since he was 11 years old."

"C'mon. It couldn't have been that bad."

"Dad drew pictures."

He _cannot_ help that he laughs. The image of Rachel sitting there with her two gay dads, like, fucking sparkly crayons or whatever sitting on the table between them and her little geeky dad drawing a pair of unicorns fucking or whatever? That shit is _hilarious_.

"Sorry, baby, but come on," he says, tilting his head when she scowls at him. "So are you like, grounded?"

"No, but if you ever come over again, we aren't allowed to be in my room alone together. Or any other room. Daddy mentioned something about a nanny cam, but Dad talked him out of it pretty quickly."

"Well that fuckin' sucks," he says seriously. He mumbles this part, since he's sure she'll punch him if she hears; "Now I'm never gonna get to touch your boobs."

She punches him.

"This is a far bigger problem than that, Noah. We can't even kiss! Daddy says he doesn't want to see it in his house. But if we're never alone, then..."

"Pretty sure that's his point, Rach."

She punches him again.

"What are we supposed to do?" she asks. He thinks it's pretty awesome that she's legitimately worried about not being able to kiss him.

"I have a house, too, you know. And a truck. And a master key to the janitor's closets. And I've got a sweet fucking spot under the bleachers. It's in this corner all tucked away. Totally private," he says. "Actually, we could go right now if you want."

Another punch. (He's thinking of calling her Fists of Fury, but he's pretty sure that wouldn't go over so well.)

"They said I can't go to your house until they've met your mom," she explains.

"What!?" Everyone in the class looks over at him, and Rachel's trying hard not to blush. He glares at them and they fuck off. When he looks at Rachel again, she's taking one of those things she calls a 'cleansing breath.' "Why the fuck not?"

"They aren't idiots! They know we'd just do there what we can't do at my house," she says rationally.

He shrugs and throws her a smile. "Don't worry about it."

"What does that mean?" she asks.

He counts off on his fingers; "Truck. Janitor's closets. Bleachers."

"Those are _all_ cliché. And I don't care to think of how many other girls you've kissed in any of those places," she says, turning away from him again, opening her text book. "You'll need to think of new ones. Just for my peace of mind."

He leans over and kisses her just below her ear. He knows she loves that, because the night before, she let out this really hot breath against his cheek. "I'll kiss you wherever I can."

(And yeah, he means that in more ways than one.)

"Puck, come on," Mr. Schuester says after witnessing that little kiss. "Keep..._that_...out of the classroom."

Rachel blushes again as she turns her page, and Puck just smiles and sends a nod to the teacher as he drapes his arm over the back of Rachel's chair lazily.

He's a fucking stud.

And he's pretty sure he can make a copy of Tanaka's key to the new equipment shed by the soccer field.

----

He does not know how the fuck this happened.

No, seriously.

One minute, he's driving Rachel home from school with every intention of speeding away from that house of crazy as soon as her feet hit the pavement, and the next, her dad is telling him to ask his mom when she's available, so their families can 'break challah" some Friday night.

There are a lot of reasons why this is the shittiest thing in his fucking life.

1: His mother is insane. Not only will she probably like, try to pass down her wedding dress to 'That Lovely Jewish Rachel', but she'll lose her shit over the fact that they're being invited to a proper Shabbat.

2: His sister is a total pain in the ass, and she'll probably run her mouth and say a bunch of shit that Puck does _not_ need Rachel's dads (plural) to hear.

3: Rachel's dads (plural.) (That's pretty much all encompassing.)

But then Rachel has this smile on her face that's all hopeful, like if her dads meet his mom, then everything will work out at they'll get to, you know, not just sit around with 10 feet of space between them and one or both of her dads in the room.

So he agrees. Because she has him by the balls. And if he didn't think that'd pay off in a really pleasurable way, he wouldn't fucking allow it.

So that's how he finds himself sitting in a black button down shirt (_tucked in_) and dark jeans (he was _not_ wearing the khakis his mother laid out for him, because hello, he's not seven). He's wearing a yarmulke (which he kind of loves, actually) and sitting next to his girlfriend. And okay, maybe it's a little cool that her dads are letting them have some manischewitz, even if it is kind of gross. And the food smells good.

But the fact that they look like they're about to destroy him? That's the part that sucks.

He doesn't think he's ever loved his mother more than when she starts talking about how happy she is that Noah and Rachel are together. She goes on and on about how amazing Rachel is (truth) and how she's seen a definite change in her son since he started dating Rachel. He sees Rachel's Dad almost smile. Daddy just sips his wine. The dude's poker face is epic.

"Tell me, Aviva, you work shift work, correct?" Brian asks.

"Yes. I work a lot of evenings at the hospital," she explains.

"And is Noah expected to look after Hannah while you're working?"

Puck clenches his teeth. He can see where this is going. He's not sure which is worse; not hanging out with Rachel at his house at all, or hanging out with Rachel at his house with his annoying sister around.

(Okay, he knows which one is worse, he just thinks her dads are over-fucking-reacting greatly.)

"That's right. He's actually quite a good caregiver. He cooks and, generally speaking, the house is fairly clean when I come home from work. He's become so responsible," Aviva says, smiling across the table at her son.

_Mom, I love you. _

Rachel glances over at him, and he smiles back humbly. _Humbly_!

And his mom must have had a little talk with Hannah about not talking like, all effing night, because she's just sitting there with that toothless smile showing every once in a while, picking at her food.

"Well, then I suppose we can allow Rachel to your house, so long as yourself or Hannah are there," Daddy says. Puck can tell the guy's trying not to smile at the way Rachel's face lights up.

She reaches for Daddy's hand over the table, and holds it tightly. "Thank you, Daddy."

They don't talk about that issue any more after that. Puck figures he's not going to push his luck. And it's only been two weeks since 'the incident'. Sure, those two weeks have sucked (she doesn't like making out in his truck, and it's too cold now for under the bleachers; he's got a key to the new equipment shed, but it's, you know, full of equipment). He thinks that maybe this is just the first step, and eventually her dads will start treating him like he's not a hooligan out to corrupt their daughter and steal her purity.

(Which he kind of is, but he doesn't need to confirm that for them. And also, it's not like that's _all_ he wants. If it was, he wouldn't have just spent the last two weeks getting yelled at for suggesting they blow off class and make out in the back of the library.)

"When that mean Santana girl used to come over, Noah made me stay in my room for_ever_," Hannah says.

And this, folks, is what we call a reversal of progress.

----

Rachel's still allowed to go to his place, but they're limited to the bottom floor of the house, and Hannah is his mother's (and Rachel's fathers') eyes and ears. He'd threaten her if he thought it wouldn't get back to any of the adults.

Sometimes, since Rachel's a genius, she can distract Hannah with videos or music on her iPod, and Rachel can sneak away for a few minutes for some seriously hot making out in the kitchen. (She doesn't even push him away when his fingers slip beneath the elastic of her underwear at her hip as he pushes her back against the counter.)

All this does is leave him with a constant case of blue balls. Trying to pack a whole evening's worth of hotness into a three minute make out? Not ideal.

But it's better than nothing.

----

"I have an idea," Rachel says quietly one day, sneaking up behind him at his locker. He does not hate the way her arms wrap around his waist and sit just above his belt, or the way her chin rests on his shoulder as she speaks.

"Do you?"

"Yes," she says, smiling as he turns around. He pulls her close so her hips press against his. It's a dangerous game, but it's one he likes to play. "How do you feel about skipping your nap today?"

"Baby, I've told you. I _don't do_ math class. And you can't make me," he says seriously.

"I'm not talking about going to math class," she says, and aside from their mini makeouts, he's never seen her so sexy. "You see, I have a doctor's note to get out of PE. I'm supposed to go to the library."

"Supposed to?" he asks, his brow raised. He _likes_ where this is going.

"I was just thinking, you know? Dad and Daddy are at work. Lunch is next. We could go to my house." She runs one hand up his back, then down again, and loops her thumb through his belt loop. "Unless you've really got your heart set on that nap."

She laughs when he grabs her hand and heads for the exit.

----

Puck learns that there are way more fun things to do than go to the nurse's office to skip class. He also learns that his girlfriend is an evil genius. The note she has is for cramps, and he knows that's not the real issue. He knows that because she lets him touch her through her underwear for the first time. (Well, and she told him the note was a fake, but who cares about that right now?) He learns that for a girl who's so loud all the time, she's like, _really_ quiet when he's trying to make her come. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, because he just gets to dirty talk a lot and try to get her to say stuff. He learns he can make her blush _when she's already blushing._

He gives her her first orgasm, and she doesn't seem to care that they're both still fully dressed. He doesn't necessarily love that part, but she looks so hot that he can't complain. She's breathing all heavy, and her cheeks are red, eyes glassy, and there's just a little tiny bit of sweat above her lip. He kisses it away.

He lays back on the bed as she slips into the bathroom, and he tries to think about everything that he knows isn't sexy. He's not getting off today, and he doesn't even think he's annoyed. Frustrated, yes. Not annoyed. He learns that it's not about that with Rachel, just sex or whatever. (If it was, he wouldn't still be around, to be honest.)

He also learns that Rachel's neighbours are fucking _nosey_.

When Rachel gets grounded for a month after her dads are told about Puck's truck in the driveway in the middle of the day, Puck is pretty sure he's going to go insane.

So now not only does he not get to kiss (etc.) his girl anywhere but at school, but he doesn't get to see her at all.

He spends a lot of time, during the following weeks, alone with the image of her mouth, that perfect little 'O' as she came.

----

He cannot believe his (bad) luck when he runs into her dads (plural) at the grocery store. His mom's working and left the list and a $100 bill on the counter, asking if he'd stop and do their shopping for the week. And as if he's going to say no. So there he is, looking like fucking Mr. Mom, his sister standing at the end of the cart that he's pushing, and he runs into these two dudes who despise him for defiling their daughter. Or whatever.

"Mr. Berries!" Hannah cries excitedly. Puck wants to yell at her for calling them that. "Hi!"

"Hi, sweetheart," Brian says, smiling as he runs his hand over her hair. "How are you?"

"Good! But Noah won't let me get the marshmallow cereal. And it's the best kind!"

Brian laughs and Puck tries not to smile. "Well, maybe it tastes better, but it's not so good for you."

"That's what _he_ says." Hannah jerks her thumb towards her brother and he shakes his head a little.

"Hi, Mr. Berry. And Mr. Berry," he says. He's still not so sure what he's supposed to call them. He figures this is all formal and stuff, so it's a good way to go. It's better than Mr. Berries (though now that he thinks about it, that's pretty fucking funny.) "How are you?"

He still doesn't like the way Mark (aka: Daddy) looks him up and down all the time, like he's still trying to decide whether or not he should kick Puck's ass. It's unnerving. And really, would Puck fight back if that situation arose? It's something he's given way too much thought to.

"We're doing well, thank you," Brian says. At least he's polite and doesn't look like he wants to hurt anyone. "We usually try to shop at the Whole Foods, but we just couldn't get over there today."

And see, Puck hates this kind of conversation. What the hell is he supposed to say in response to that? Rachel always knows. He hates this grounding shit. Also, he hates that she's not with her dads. Where is she? Home alone? Shit. She usually calls him when she's home alone. He left his phone in his truck, not that he'd answer in the middle of this conversation with her dads anyway.

"Yeah, sometimes you've just gotta head to Safeway, right?" Puck says. He hates that these two make him so nervous. It should not happen. And he sounds like a moron, which he's not crazy about either.

"Well Rachel has given us a list. She wants to bake something or another. I'm sure I'll never hear the end of it if we don't come home with everything she needs," Brian says.

Puck smiles at the thought of Rachel in the kitchen, her apron on, baking treats (ones that he'll no doubt get to eat on Monday.) Mr. Berries (_ha!_) smile politely and make a move to leave.

"Actually," Puck says, stopping them from walking away. They turn to him and look at him questioningly. "I um...I have a basketball game this Tuesday, and it's out of town. But it would really mean a lot if Rachel could come."

He's practically begging. He doesn't care. He wants her in the stands.

"And just how do you expect her to get there? Drive herself around in the dark on a school night?" Mark asks.

"No!" Puck answers quickly. "No, I would drive. If that's okay with you, of course. I know she's still grounded, and it's a school night, so that's probably not, you know, good. But some of the other guys' girlfriends are going, too, so she wouldn't be alone. And we'd be home by 11:00."

"That's _late_," Hannah says, eyes all wide. Brian smiles at her.

Shut _up_, kid.

"I mean, I understand if you say no, but...if you could think about it, I'd appreciate it," Puck says. Rachel would be proud of him, he thinks. Neither dad says anything more. "Well, I guess we'll see you later. Say bye, Hannah."

"Bye!" she says, waving her hand like a lunatic. "You should let Rachel go! Noah's team is _bad_. They need cheerleaders and I'm not allowed to go!"

Not that he loves that she just totally dissed his team, but he fucking _adores_ his sister right now. Both dads are actually _smiling_.

He buys her the marshmallow cereal.

----

He's genuinely started to question whether or not the gods are trying to kill him. Or at least keep he and Rachel apart.

Because when his truck breaks down on their way home. They're an hour and a half away from Lima, in the middle of nowhere outside some butt fuck nowhere town in the middle of February with no cell service.

_Fuck. His. Life._

"It's not so bad, Noah!" Rachel says, sounding far too goddamn chipper. He sends her a withering glance. "You know a little bit about cars, right? Maybe it's just...the...Maybe you can fix it!"

"Rachel, I know how to charge a battery and change the oil. This is fucked. I'm fucking dead," he says angrily, pounding his palm on the wheel. "The one fucking chance I get to show your dads that I'm not a fuck up, this happens. It's been really great, babe, but we'll probably never get to see each other again. They'll send you to a goddamn convent and have a restraining order against me or something."

He glares when she laughs.

"And you call me dramatic," she says. He lets out a haughty breath. "Noah, this isn't your fault. It's simple car trouble. Totally unavoidable. We'll just have to walk back to that town and find a phone to use. There was a diner there."

"Rachel, it's like five miles, and it's freezing out. You're not walking in that," he says seriously. She's wearing jeans and boots, at least, but it's still way too cold.

"So you want me to stay here all alone in a broken down vehicle?"

"Fuck! No! Shit. This is...I am so dead," he mumbles.

He wrenches the keys from the ignition and grabs the gloves and tuque he keeps under the seat. She's already got her scarf bundled around her face, and she pulls the hood of her jacket up and tugs on her mittens again. She looks really cute. If he wasn't freaking the fuck out, he'd tell her.

She hops out of the truck and practically skips out in front of it, smiling as she waits for him to join her. When he does, he reaches for her and tucks their joined hands into the pocket of his jacket, pulling her close in hopes of keeping her warm. The way he sees it, that's the important thing here, just keeping her warm. He's not going to worry about anything else until they get to this diner she's talking about. He doesn't remember seeing it.

He doesn't talk, because he's worried, seriously terrified, about what her parents are going to say about this. If it were his kid in this situation, he'd think it was a lie. She's grounded, and this is the one time they've been able to do anything together outside of school in three weeks, and this happens? It's all a little suspect. But he thinks that they trust Rachel well enough. It's him they don't trust. She doesn't lie to them or anything, so he thinks that just maybe they'll believe her.

"This is nice," Rachel says.

"Nice!? How the fuck is any of this nice?"

"It's just us," she says, shrugging her shoulder. "We're just here together, and it's quiet, and you're holding my hand. It's nice. I've missed it, just you and I alone. When was the last time that happened?" He can see the moment she realizes it. It was the time that got her grounded. "I like being alone with you."

"Yeah, well don't get used to it," he mumbles. "Seriously, Rach, your dads hate me. This is going to just..." He sighs and stops walking, turning to face her. "They're trying to make it impossible for us. You realize that, right?"

"They are not!" she cries. She's clearly offended. "They let me come with you tonight!"

"Because I practically begged them to let you! And Hannah twisted their...big gay arm! They don't want us together, Rachel. They're trying to break us up," he says confidently.

She pulls her hand from his and turns sharply so she can walk ahead of him, going in the direction of the town they're headed for. When he catches up to her and tries to touch her, she jerks her body away and crosses her arms over herself.

"If that's what you think, then maybe we _should_ just break up," she says. He can tell she doesn't mean it.

"I'm not saying _I_ want to break up, I'm saying that's what _they_ want. Which, to be honest, makes it pretty fucking hard to be with you."

She keeps walking, and when she sniffles, he tips his head back and stifles a frustrated groan. Fuck!

"So how hard does it have to be before you give up?" she asks. She wipes a tear from just under her eye before it has a chance to trail down her cheek. Which is probably a really good thing, since it would have frozen to her skin.

"I don't _want to_, Rachel. I feel like I'm fucking 12 years old right now, though, when all we get to do is hold hands in the hallway at school," he explains.

She doesn't say anything else. She just keeps walking. He walks next to her. They aren't touching.

He hates it.

This goes on for an hour.

The third time she shivers violently, he mutters, "fuck this," and wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side as they walk. No way in hell is he going to just let her freeze because she's upset and he's pissed.

He looks down at her, but he can't see her face because of her hood. He stops in front of her just before the enter the town, and her eyes are all shiny as she looks up at him. He knows she's waiting for him to say something perfect, something that'll make the whole fight a thing of the past, just a silly argument.

He places his hands on her cheeks and kisses her softly instead. Her lips are freezing. His need to take care of this girl is insane. So he keeps kissing her, trying to warm up both their noses and her lips. He can barely feel his toes, and his legs are practically numb. He pulls her close to him and they get honked at by a passing vehicle. Rachel giggles a little bit and buries her face against the front of his warm jacket.

He takes her hand again, holds it in his pocket again, and they walk the rest of the way to the diner that he wasn't even sure was real. It's a weird place, like the kind you see in horror movies or cop shows, with sparkly table tops and ripped vinyl booth and spinning stools at the counter.

"You kids look freezing! Can I get you something?" the waitress asks worriedly.

"Two hot chocolates, please," Rachel answers, running her hands up and down over the arms of her coat. "And do you have a phone we can use? Our car broke down and we had to walk."

"Oh, dear. Of course. It's just around the counter here." The waitress, Mary, pulls Rachel around behind the counter and Puck finds a booth. He doesn't even know who she's calling. Well, her dads first, probably. The waitress comes and sets to steaming mugs on the table. "There you go, sweetheart. On the house."

"Thanks," he says, trying to smile. His cheeks are too cold to know if it happens.

He can't really hear Rachel talking. Her back is to him and she's still wearing her coat. She's gesturing every so often with her hands, then she hangs up and dials another number. When she walks back over to him, he notices how red her cheeks are, how her hair is a complete disaster and the bottoms of her jeans, like his, are soaked from the snow.

"Your mom is very understanding. I called her for you," she explains. He smiles and nods. "My dads...well, they're not happy, but they know you didn't plan this."

"Right."

"Noah," she scolds. "Can you please stop...You may not like them, but they're still my fathers."

"It's not that I don't like them! It's that _they_ don't like _me_!"

"Well your attitude right now certainly doesn't help," she tells him. He wants to argue that her dads can't fucking see him right now, but he doesn't need to start another fight. "They said to call again when we have news."

"It's almost midnight," he says, checking the time on the clock on the wall. "What are we gonna do?"

"We'll find a tow truck and see if they can drive us back to Lima tonight," Rachel says rationally, taking a sip of her drink.

"Sorry, dear, but the only tow truck in town is already busy for the night. There was an accident on one of the back roads. Four cars and a truck," Mary explains regrettably. "I know, because my husband runs the auto shop here in town."

"So what are we supposed to do?" Puck asks worriedly. "It'll cost a shitload to get a tow truck to come out here from Lima."

Mary doesn't seem to care about his language. "There's a motel two blocks over."

"Jesus Christ," Puck mumbles. He looks across the table at Rachel. "I'm sure your dads would _love_ that."

"What other choice do we have, Puck? They're not going to drive out here and get us right now. They don't even know where we are! And your mom has to work at 7:00. Who else are we going to call? Finn? Mr. Schue? And then what about your truck? You're not going to just leave it there. You know, sometimes you just have to handle the situation as best you can and refrain from complaining about it or thinking the worst. Do you think you could do that for one night?"

Mary is smirking at Rachel, impressed with the girl's rant.

(He hates that she just called him Puck. It only happens when she's really pissed at him.)

"Rachel, I'm..." He sighs and shakes his head. "Fine. Go call them. I'll just brace myself for the wrath."

She doesn't even congratulate him for using one of their vocab words from English class. She just gets up and heads back over to the phone. Mary is just standing there, hand on her hip and smiling at Puck.

"She's a spitfire, isn't she?" she asks.

"You don't know the half of it," Puck says, but he's grinning fondly. "She's got these two dads. They hate me."

"Two dads?" Mary asks, raising her brow. "How could they hate you?"

"They think I'm out to ruin her life or something. I dunno," he shrugs his shoulder and toys with the handle on his mug.

"Well, you just treat her right and they'll have no reason to keep that up, sweetie." She pats him on the shoulder and heads back to the counter and starts talking with one of the cooks or something.

And if he thinks about it, that's really not the worst advice he's ever heard. He's been taking this whole separation, try-to-ruin-his-relationship thing pretty well. He hasn't complained (not to them) and he hasn't gone against their wishes. Even at school, he's careful not to get caught doing anything that could get back to them. The last thing he needs is a call home to her dads after she gets caught coming out of a closet or something. So they don't do that. Literally, he hasn't been past first base in three weeks. _Three weeks!_ And then when he wanted to take Rachel out, he asked their fucking permission. _Politely_.

So if they want to make it impossible for him and Rachel to be together, he's going to make it impossible for them not to see that he's good for her.

Rachel walks back over to the table and sidles up next to him on his side of the booth, and he drapes his arm around her shoulder as she reaches for her mug.

"Motel it is," she says quietly. "And they said we can use my emergency credit card for the room."

"Room? As in...one?" he asks skeptically. She tips her head back to look at him.

"They don't want me alone in a room in a strange town," she explains. "See? They must trust you enough."

"They just know they've scared me enough to know that I'm sleeping on the floor."

"You are not!"

"Yeah, I fucking am," he says seriously. "I'm not taking chances. When your dads ask, I'm not lying."

They finish their drinks in silence, her leaning against him and trying to get warm, and him trying not to think of all the potential ways for her fathers to murder him.

When they're finished, they try to pay, even though Mary said their drinks were on the house. She won't take their money, and she tells them to stop by for breakfast in the morning. Her husband drives the tow truck, and she promises he'll meet them at the diner at 9:00 and take care of Puck's truck. They thank her repeatedly and she just smiles and tells them to go get a good night's sleep.

It's 12:30 by the time they enter their motel room. It's nothing special. At all. A bed, a night stand, a chair, a bathroom, and a 15 year old television. But they really only need the bed, the bathroom and the floor anyway. Puck checks the closet for the extra pillow and blanket, and he sets up a little sleeping area for himself on the floor while Rachel's in the bathroom.

She walks out with a towel wrapped around her body and her clothes folded in her hands. He can see her bra straps, so he assumes she's still wearing her panties too. But he stares a little bit. He's never been around her when she wasn't wearing clothes. God, this night _sucks_.

He pulls off his own shirt and steps out of his jeans. he pretends not to notice the way Rachel is looking at him as he stands there in just his boxers. He watches her as she slips into the bed, then pulls the towel out and tosses it onto the chair next to the bed. She's on one side of the bed, curled up on her side, and it's really fucking difficult not to just climb in next to her. He's getting the distinct impression that she's still kind of pissed at him for their argument earlier. And he thinks that she's frustrated that he's sleeping on the floor. But when her dads ask him what happens, he wants to be able to tell them the truth.

"Goodnight, Rach," he says as he lays down on the floor. It's practically cement, with just a thin layer of carpet over it.

"Goodnight."

She switches off the light, and he sighs as he tries to get comfortable. And warm. It's cold on the floor. He thinks there's a draft coming from under the door to the room, and it's not pleasant. That bed looked so comfortable, by comparison. With more blankets and a mattress and a half-naked Rachel. _Goddammit_.

He closes his eyes tightly and tries to force himself into sleep. But he can hear her every time she moves, and he gets a shiver down his spine every couple minutes because he's so cold.

He doesn't know how long they've been laying there in the dark, but he's sure she's sleeping, until she speaks.

"Noah? Are you asleep?"

"No," he answers quietly.

"I'm cold," she admits.

"I'm freezing my nuts off."

"Will you just get into the bed? Please," she says. She's practically begging. And he cannot let her stay cold. That's just not cool. He grabs the blanket he's been using and climbs up onto the bed, slipping beneath the covers. He drapes the extra blanket over the both of them. When she backs herself up so she's pressed against his chest, he drapes his arm over her, his hand resting high on her thigh. "Thank you."

"Mmm."

"You're so cold," she notes.

"I told you."

"You were that serious about respecting my dads' wishes?" she asks, as if she doesn't already know the answer. She turns in his arms so she's facing him, their legs tangling together.

"Yeah," he almost whispers. She kisses his cheek. He can't believe that they're alone in a motel room, alone for the first time in weeks, and he's not going to try to even make out with her. "I didn't mean what I said before. They can try to keep us apart. I'm a consistent bastard. I'll just keep trying."

She giggles a little, and her breath hits his neck. "You mean persistent. Not consistent."

"Whatever," he says, laughing softly. "If we stay together, they'll have to accept it eventually, right?"

"Exactly."

He kisses her gently, letting his lips linger against hers just for a second, then he pulls her closer so she's cradled right up against his chest. She feels good there. Perfect.

"Sleep, baby." He presses his lips to her temple and she lets out this content little sigh.

No, they are _not_ breaking up any time soon.

----

When they make it home on Wednesday evening after his truck is fixed, her dads shake his hand and thank him for making sure Rachel got home safely.

He smiles and insists that it was no problem, that he wouldn't let anything happen to her, not if he could help it, and for the first time in pretty much ever, he feels like just maybe her dads are warming up to him.

----

Rachel flounces up to him one morning at school. He's standing at his locker with Mike and Matt. She apparently doesn't care about that. She wedges herself between the boys so that she's standing directly in front of Puck, and he laughs as Mike and Matt shake their heads.

"What's up, crazy girl?"

"Guess what?"

"I just asked." She widens her eyes, like she's not going to tell him unless he guesses at least twice. He knows this game. She plays it all the time. And usually, the 'news' is annoying. (As if he cares that they started selling non-fat yoghurt in the cafeteria.) "Just tell me. I fucking don't know."

"Guess!" She practically stomps her foot on the floor.

"Um...you want to skip second and get it on in my truck?" he suggests. She smacks his arm. Then Mike and Matt's arms, just because they're laughing. "Just tell me."

"My dads want you to come to dinner on Friday," she says, her whole face lit up. Honestly? This does not sound like the best thing he's ever heard. "And then after? We can _watch a_ _movie_!"

He grabs her elbow and pulls her away from their friends so that they can't hear this. "Watch a movie? Sorry, baby, but sitting between you and your dad on the couch and watching fuckin'...27 Dresses or whatever is not my idea of fun."

"No," she says, shaking her head. "We can watch one in my room. Alone. Together. No supervision!"

"What?" It's totally fucking lame how excited he is at the prospect of this, of cuddling up on her bed together and watching what will inevitably be a horrible chick flick.

"The door has to stay open, but we can be in my room together," she explains. "Isn't it amazing!?"

He kisses her. He kisses her really good. He backs her up against the lockers and his hands slip into her hair. His hips press against hers and she clutches the sides of his tee shirt. He pushes his tongue past her lips, not that she minds, and his hands travel down her body to rest on her hips so he can pull her flush against him.

They get detention because of it.

Not a good way to stay in her dads' good graces.

But then Rachel starts ranting about detention cutting into their glee rehearsal, and the teacher talks to Mr. Schue, who says he'll take care of it.

His idea of 'taking care of it' is to tell Puck and Rachel in passing to keep the PDA to a minimum.

Puck doesn't even care. Now that he can be alone with Rachel outside of school again, he won't need to make out with her so much on school property.

(But he probably still will.)

----

Dinner isn't so bad.

It's nothing formal or anything, just your average Italian fare. But it's really good, and Mark actually smiles (like, a _real_ smile) when Puck compliments the meal. They talk about school and glee, and Rachel talks to her dads about their work. Puck doesn't feel out of place or anything. He actually almost feels welcome in their home. Which has only happened once for about five minutes. Then he fucked it all up.

"...So then Mercedes said that my skirt was cute, and that the dresses for Sectionals this year shouldn't be black, and I am totally worried that we're going to end up wearing. But then Kurt said something about a midnight blue, which wouldn't be so bad," Rachel says.

Puck's trying to keep up. He really is. But then there's this chocolate cake sitting in front of him, and Rachel's eating the same, and it's really, really good. But also? There's this little bit of chocolate right above her lip that he can see as she sits across from him. It's distracting. And he can see her dad from the corner of his eye, watching to see if Puck's going to say or do something about it.

"Rachel," Puck says, and she looks towards him. "You've got a little chocolate..."

She raises her finger to her lip and wipes the spot away. Then she _licks it off_.

This alone time _cannot_ come fast enough.

"Anyway, there was talk of a drop waist, but I put a stop that immediately. My hips are too wide, as we learned from the Bat Mitzva dress shopping experience," Rachel continues. Puck actually smiles as he listens to her and eats his cake. "And then Kurt tried to tell me that he wanted to suggest a sequined _sash_!"

"God, could he _be_ more gay?" Puck mutters.

There are two sets of eyes blinking at him from opposite ends of the table. Rachel nearly spits out her water. She knows what he meant. He's pretty sure Dad and Daddy don't.

"I think what Noah means, is..."

"I apologize," Puck says, interrupting Rachel and glancing between her dads. "I didn't mean it as an insult at all. I mean, the guy _is_ gay. But we're friends and stuff."

"Noah," Brian says. Puck looks over at him. "Take a breath."

Rachel giggles and Puck does as he's told. He laughs at himself a little bit. Can you really blame him for being a little on edge? He feels like one wrong move and he'll be banished to the front steps or something.

"Sorry, I just didn't want you to think that I'm some kind of..."

"Relax," Brian insists. "Why don't you two head upstairs and watch that movie? Rachel hasn't stopped talking about it all week."

Puck laughs and smiles at Rachel across the table. "I know. She's changed her mind about a hundred times. Last I heard it was Good Will Hunting."

Rachel shakes her head rapidly. "Then you told me that you've never seen When Harry Met Sally."

He closes his eyes and groans as her dads laugh.

As soon as they're upstairs, Puck pulls her against him and kisses her until they're both breathless. She tries to move away, but he's having none of it. They're just standing there right inside the door of her bedroom, kissing like the teenagers they are. Because honestly? They never get to do this. Not like this.

"It's like they miraculously don't hate me," he says, totally surprised by this recent turn of events.

"You took care of me last week."

"It's hard to believe that's all it is. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop." He begins looking around her room, lifting up papers and checking books. He opens and closes her closet doors, then her bathroom door.

"What are you doing?" she asks with a laugh.

"Hidden camera. Or a microphones," he says as he checks the ceiling. "This place could be bugged. You know how easy that shit is to buy?"

"You're being crazy," she giggles. She reaches for his hand and pulls her towards him. "You've earned their trust, that's all."

He kisses her, because he's really relieved. "Let's watch this stupid movie."

She rolls her eyes at him as she queues up her DVD player, and he lays back on her bed against her pillows. God, he's missed this bed. Even more so when she's on it with him. She sits beside him, his arm around her and her side pressed against his. She lets out this little noise, and he thinks she's thinking the same things he is.

He hears the television turn on downstairs, and he sinks down in her bed just a little bit more, pulling her with him. She's got one hand resting on his stomach. He doesn't hate that.

About halfway through the movie, his arm starts going numb, so he pulls it out from behind her and lets her take his hand in hers. About 10 minutes later, he stands up, and she looks at him like he's crazy until he pulls her up and then tugs the sheets back. They both slip beneath the covers, and only he knows what all this is for. He's not cold.

He reaches for her and pulls her so that she's sitting between his legs, her back against his chest. When he rests his hands on her thighs, she doesn't think anything of it. His right hand pushes her skirt up a little bit, his fingers ghosting over the inside of her thigh. She takes a deep breath and her back arches just a little bit.

When he kisses her neck, she thinks he's insane. He's just gotten permission to be in her room, and now he's doing this? "Noah," she whispers.

"Shh."

She knows she'll have to listen to him if his hand moves any higher. Which it does. He runs his index finger along the elastic of her panties between her legs, and her breathing grows even more shallow. She shifts her hips upward, which makes him smirk. He loves how badly she wants him. They haven't done this since that day. He's going to take it one step further, because he's pretty sure she'll let him.

He slips his hand into her underwear, and she whimpers. "Shh," he says again, kissing just below her ear.

She's quiet. She doesn't even scold him for making them miss a huge chunk of the movie. Her head drops back onto his shoulder and she lets out a heavy breath as she lets go.

He slips his hands beneath her, one on each thigh, and lifts her up, setting her beside him again. She's sleepy, and she sinks down into the mattress, laying on her side and looking up at him. He brushes the hair back from her face as he smiles at her.

"Why did you do that?" she asks. "My dads could have come in. They'd kill you. Especially now."

He lays down so he's facing her. "Because you look sexy as hell when you come," he says candidly, his voice soft enough for only her to hear. She blushes a little bit and he kisses her cheek. "And because I suck at the boyfriend stuff, but I'm awesome at the sex stuff."

"Mmm," she murmurs, snuggling closer to him, their bodies pressed together. She doesn't say anything about the way he's digging into her hip. "You aren't bad at the boyfriend stuff. You're really, really good at it." He laughs softly, kisses her forehead as she runs her hand over his arm. "But I never...do for you what you just did for me."

Her eyes are all earnest, big and brown like she's really concerned about this. "That's okay," he says. It surprises him that he actually means it. "Eventually, though. Right?"

She giggles a little bit and nods. "Yeah. Eventually."

It's vague and non-committal, but he finds that's okay.

Her dads don't even throw him out when they walk into Rachel's bedroom and find the couple sleeping together beneath her covers. The television screen is blank and Noah's arm is wrapped around Rachel on top of the blankets.

"They _are_ cute," Daddy says, like he doesn't really want to admit it.

"Mark, they're _adorable_," Dad agrees.

Neither of them know that Puck is awake to hear these comments. He smiles to himself and pulls Rachel closer when he hears them walk away.

----

Their first year of college, it's Thanksgiving, and they haven't seen each other since they each left for school. Rachel is at a performing arts college in Chicago, and Puck is at OSU, and he decides that long-distance _sucks_. Especially since Rachel refuses to engage in phone sex, and her sexts have perfect grammar and clinical terminology that absolutely cannot be considered sexy. He eventually stopped trying.

But this, now, in her bedroom, is making up for it. Turns out the 'I haven't seen you in months' make out is the hottest thing he's ever experienced. It's better than 'I got into college!' sex, make-up sex, and 'Oh my god, we won Regionals!' sex.

And it's just _making out_. It's going to make him black out, he's sure, when he actually gets her naked.

He cannot _wait_.

She's on top of him, wearing just her bra and her skirt (he's got this thing for leaving her skirt on until the very last second) and he's wearing his jeans, though his belt is on her floor and his fly is undone. Her hands are running down his chest and he's saying downright _dirty_ things to her. She's not even blushing. It's like she wants him to keep talking. So he does.

She leans down to kiss him, her hips pressing into his and her backside raising up off him a little bit. He takes the opportunity to run his hands down her back and beneath her skirt to rest on her ass. They've got this down to a science, but it's never, ever, ever boring.

Her door is closed, because towards the tail end of senior year, her dads decided that the kids could have their privacy. Puck knows it's just because they were aware that Rachel was having sex. He knows this because her dads (plural) sat the 'kids' down and gave them a sex talk. (Yeah, _that_ wasn't awkward at all.)

But the closed door did (does) make his life a hell of a lot easier.

He's got one hand under her skirt still, and the other sneaking up her back to unhook her bra.

And the door swings open after just one quick tap against it.

"Daddy!" Rachel cries, sitting upright. Puck closes his eyes.

"Deja vu," Mark mutters. He sighs and shakes his head. "I'll just...You know what? We're going...out. We'll be back before dinner."

Rachel covers her face with her hands and Puck looks over at her dad. "Thanks, Mr. Berry."

"Noah!" Rachel cries, shoving at him.

Mark just laughs and shakes his head and pulls the door shut. "Use a condom!" he calls through the closed door.

Puck laughs as Rachel buries her face in his chest. He runs his hands up and down her back soothingly and kisses the top of her head.

"Why do I feel 16 again?" she asks, the sound of her voice muffled against his chest before she sits up again.

"Because you don't have a fucking _lock_ on your door?" he suggests. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, letting out a sigh. "Hey, at least they don't hate me anymore."

"I'm glad you find this funny."

"Rachel," he says, his hand trailing slowly up her back to the clasp of her bra.

"Hmm?"

"Stop talking about your dads when I'm trying to get you naked."

She leans down to kiss him again, and it's like they pick up right where they left off before the interruption. "You know," she mutters, teasing his lips with her own. She knows he hates it when she kisses him lightly. As he says, those aren't even kisses. The reality of it is, he just wants more of her. Pretty much all the time, actually. "It's only noon. They're not going to be back until dinner."

"So shut up and kiss me for real, woman."

He flips them over and tosses her bra somewhere in the room. "Don't call me woman."

"You _are_ my woman," he argues, his hand sliding down her thigh to make her bend her knee. She doesn't correct him again. He thinks she actually likes it when he gets possessive like this.

They both hear the car start and then pull out of the driveway.

She doesn't know that he's had a very casual, very vague, very 'someday' themed conversation with her dads about his intentions for their future, his and Rachel's.

He thinks her dad probably would have kicked him out just now if they hadn't had that talk and the 'm' word hadn't been thrown around. And yeah, he's only 19 and they aren't anywhere close to this happening yet, but it's nice to know that her dads are totally on board with Puck proposing.

You know, sometime_ in the_ _future_. _Years_ down the road. When he has a job and all that. And maybe after they live together and stuff. He hasn't told Rachel any of this. They've never talked about marriage, because hello, that's fucking _heavy_. But he thinks about it sometimes, and it doesn't really scare him.

"Baby?" He's got her skirt off her and she's pushing down his jeans with her feet. She's breathing heavily, and her eyes are almost black when she looks at him. "Love you."

She smiles at him all soft and sweet, and he knows it's because he _never_ says it first. Sometimes (most of the time) he doesn't say it at all. He has before, of course. Like the first time they said it (during a huge fight, and he was sure they were breaking up; she was crying and she yelled it at him, and he said, "Well, _Jesus fuck_, I love you too, but you're _still_ fucking _insane_," and she pulled his shirt off him so fast that they both forgot what they were fighting over.) And before they left for school, she said it to him in her driveway and he whispered it back. But the rest of the time, it's her saying the words and him saying, _"Back atcha,"_ or _"I know," _or _"Yup. You too." _

If he'd known it'd make her so hot for him, he would have done it way sooner.

They don't leave her bed, not once, until they hear the front door open and her dads walk in.

It's not even awkward when they all sit down to dinner together. Or when Rachel's dad walks into the kitchen when she and Puck are 'doing the dishes'. Puck's got Rachel sitting on top of the counter and he's standing between her legs, her wet hand prints on the shoulders of his shirt.

Her dad just chuckles and refills two glasses of wine before leaving the room again.

Puck isn't entirely sure why they don't hate him anymore. Especially now, when they keep walking in on him in compromising positions with their daughter. He doesn't question it.

"Wanna go to my place? Mom's working tonight and Hannah's at Bubbie's."

"We can control ourselves here for one night, can't we?" she asks with a laugh. But her hands are toying with the hair at the back of his neck, and he knows she only does that when she seriously wants him.

"We've got two days to have as much sex as humanly possible," he reminds her, his voice low.

"Is that all you want me for?" She's got one brow raised and she pulls away from him, closing her legs and forcing him to step back. He knows she's joking.

"Basically. Get your shit," he says, pulling her down off the counter and smacking her ass as she walks away.

When she tells her dads (plural) that she's going out for the night but she'll be back in the morning, they don't even flinch.

They've never let her stay at Puck's place for the night.

"Be safe," Brian says before the kids walk out the door.

That's pretty unnecessary, too, because they, all four of them, know that Puck wouldn't do anything to hurt Rachel. That's probably where all this trust comes from in the first place.

Once they're in his truck, he doesn't even turn the key until she has her seatbelt on. "Safety first," he says teasingly. She laughs and rolls her eyes at him.

"You know, Daddy said something the other day that confused me a little bit," she says as she reaches for his hand. They only ever really hold hands when they're driving. He likes that it's kind of their thing.

"What's that?"

"Nothing, just...have you spoken to them without me around?" she asks, smiling at him because she's pretty sure she already knows the answer.

He glances over at her and wants to tell her to wipe the smirk off her damn face. "Last time I was home for the weekend." He shrugs as he drives and plays with the radio. "I stopped in for a coffee."

"What did you talk about?" she asks. He looks at her again to see if she already knows and she's just waiting for him to admit it.

He's pretty sure she's got no clue, other than the obvious. They would have talked about her, of course.

"None of your damn business, nosey," he says seriously.

She starts pouting. She doesn't like secrets. That's too damn bad, because he's _not_ going to talk to her about that conversation he had with her dads that day.

She's quiet the entire distance to his house, and she's sulking when she sits down on his bed.

"Hey, Rach?" he says as he pulls his shirt up over his head. She looks up at him, and he notes the way her eyes rake over his body. "We're good, right?"

"No. I'm mad at you for not telling me."

"Aww, muffin," he says, faking a pout. It's their inside little joke for any time either of them complains about something stupid. _Aww, muffin_, they'll say to one another. And she started that shit, too. (What? 8:00 is _way_ too early for a college class; sue him for complaining.) He just gets to use it more often. "And I meant in general. You and I are good?"

"Yes," she says, smiling at him. "And you said you and I just now, not you and me. You know how much I love it when you use proper grammar."

He shakes his head and walks towards her, kneeling in front of her and resting his hands on her thighs. "That's what I was talking about with your dads. You and I being good. Not proper grammar."

"It would actually be _you and me_, there, because..."

"Rachel."

"Sorry," she says, making him smile. "You were talking to my dads about the state of our relationship?" He shrugs and she pulls him towards her, moving until they're both laying down on the bed, him on top of her. "What did you say?"

"I dunno." He runs his hand down her side to rest on her hip, then kisses her softly. "Stuff."

She smiles like she knows exactly what he's hiding from her. The annoying part is that she probably has figured it out.

"Good stuff?" she asks, biting her bottom lip a little bit.

He shrugs and nudges her legs apart a little more with his knee. "Probably."

It takes a lot to get Rachel to shut up sometimes. The way she's looking at him right now, he honestly thinks she's going to start crying or something stupid, because even though he's hardly said anything at all, it's very clear she's got him all figured out. No surprise there.

She doesn't say anything more, because she knows that her fathers' not-entirely-sudden trust in both she and Noah probably has everything to do with the fact that Noah has admitted that this relationship is long term. Long term as in, it has a definite future. The kind of future all fathers would want for their daughter.

Rachel doesn't really let on to Noah that she has pieced it together.

For now, she'll take his earlier _'Love you'_ (he said it first!) and the way he's kissing her right now, soft and slow. She's not in any rush for the rest of it.

But it would be nice to have their own place. One with a locking door and all the privacy they could ever hope for.

_Someday_.

She doesn't even realize she's said it out loud until he pulls away and looks at her like she's insane. The thing is, this isn't the first time she's said what she was thinking when he was kissing her neck like that. He kind of makes her fall apart at the seams.

"Huh?" he asks, looking all cute and confused.

"Nothing. I love you."

He smiles and his hands start gathering her tee shirt and pushing it upward.

"Word."

She laughs at him and he smiles. That's a new one.

She doesn't really care how he expresses the sentiment, so long as he keeps doing it.

_**-Fin-**_


End file.
